


My Key to True Calm

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim does his best to help when Matt struggles with his limitations as he recovers from being sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Key to True Calm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love, In Fire and In Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063103) by [angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/pseuds/angel). 



> [](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelita26**](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/) was kind enough to allow me to play in her wonderful [Bookstore AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/53549), and this is set after [Love, In Fire and Blood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1063103). The title is from the same poem by Pablo Neruda. ETA: OMG [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/)**kanarek13** made me a Bookstore banner!

~~~

Tim puttered around the apartment for a while, trying to make the evening go by more quickly. He washed the dishes from the soup he’d heated up for Matt and the frozen pizza he made for himself and straightened up to make sure that Matt would have enough clearance to move through the rooms in his wheelchair. He was so used to seeing the wheelchair tucked away in a corner that it was strange to see Matt using it. Tim paused in wiping down the kitchen counter and closed his eyes at the memory of bundling Matt into the chair to take him to the hospital. All he’d wanted to do was sweep Matt up in his arms and carry him to the car like that, but realistically Tim knew that Matt was heavier than he looked, and the risk of dropping him and causing him to be re-injured wasn’t worth taking.

Even still, Matt had been so sick that he could barely hold himself upright in the chair while trying to breathe through the congestion in his lungs. Tim had rushed him down the hallway, pushing the chair with a chunk of Matt’s coat clutched between his fingers and the back of the chair. Later, in the ER waiting room, Tim had sat and rubbed the cramps out of his hands until they finally let him go back and sit with Matt. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

Now, Matt was home from the hospital and breathing much better, but the fever lingered, and he didn’t have the strength or energy he needed to walk with his crutches. Most of the time, Matt made it look easy, as if the crutches were an extension of himself but, with most of his strength going to necessary functions like breathing and healing, walking was just too much. Matt clearly hated using the chair, but he was pragmatic enough to accept his limits, at least for the moment.

When there was nothing else Tim could clean or straighten, he gave in to his desire to be near his lover. He stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and sat on his side of the bed with a book to read. Matt made a small, unhappy noise in his sleep, and Tim reached over to brush his hair back from his forehead. His book abandoned, Tim watched as Matt grimaced and shifted his shoulders against the bed then made another sound, something between a whimper and a moan. Tim swallowed hard and held himself back from shaking Matt awake. The fever had been making it hard for Matt to sleep well, even in the relative peace and quiet of their apartment, and he needed as much rest as he could get.

Tim threaded his fingers through Matt’s hair and let his hand rest there, hoping that the physical connection would help Matt find a way out of his bad dream and settle down into more restful sleep, but it didn’t work. Matt’s rough breaths became quicker, then woke up with a gasp. His eyes were open wide, and he looked around rapidly without moving his head. Tim moved his hand to Matt’s cheek and rubbed gently with his thumb. “Hey, you’re okay.”

Matt looked around again and swallowed hard then lifted his head and shoulders for a second before slumping back against the pillow. “I can’t—” His voice was a rough whisper that ended in a cough.

“Are you going to be sick?” Tim slipped his arm under Matt’s shoulders and levered him up to sit but Matt just shook his head and coughed again while Tim kept a hand on his back. When the coughing fit was over, Matt slumped over with his head in his hands, breathing roughly. “Matt? What do you need?”

“I need to get up.”

“You want me to help you to the bathroom?”

“No, I just—I need to move around.”

Tim patted Matt’s shoulder. “Let me get your chair. I’ll be right back.”

“No!” Matt sat up straight, even though Tim could see him trembling from the effort. “I need to stand up.”

“Matty—”

“I need to stand up,” Matt repeated, an edge of desperation in his voice. “Please.”

Tim climbed over Matt to get out on his side of the bed then helped Matt to stand up slowly. He kept his arms wrapped firmly around Matt’s back, and when they were standing up straight Matt’s legs took his full weight for just a moment before Matt put his arms around Tim in return and leaned into his chest for support. He coughed into Tim’s shirt then rested his head on Tim’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?”

Matt just breathed for a minute, his chest expanding against Tim’s with each inhale. “I dreamed I was in the hospital, that I woke up and couldn’t move at all.” Matt took a slow, ragged breath in and out. “Paralyzed. Completely.”

“That didn’t happen.” Tim rubbed his hands lightly over Matt’s back, and he could feel the considerable muscle Matt had built there, but he could also feel traces of the hardware that was holding Matt’s spine together. The combination of strength and fragility was beautiful and terrifying. “You’re okay.”

“I might not always be.”

“I know that.” Tim wasn’t sure if Matt’s statement was another one of his attempts to scare Tim away or if he just needed to say the words out loud. “But for right now you’re just sick. You’ll get your strength back. Give yourself a break.”

Matt sighed heavily and nodded against Tim’s shoulder.

“Let’s get back in bed before we both end up in a pile on the floor, huh?”

“Yeah, okay.” Matt turned his hips to sit on the side of the bed as Tim controlled his descent. He reached over to the bedside table and took a couple of Tylenol along with the next dose of his antibiotic then sat sipping at the bottle of water Tim had left there.

He still looked sick, his face pale and his eyes missing their usual light, but the improvement over how he’d been during that frantic trip to the hospital was so striking that Tim couldn’t resist bending down to press his lips to Matt’s forehead. The skin there was sticky from dried sweat and still too warm, but Tim lingered, breathing in the life and presence there. He felt tears stinging his eyes, and after the emotional whirlwind of the last several days he couldn’t even be surprised.

Tim walked back around to his side of the bed and slipped between the sheets then helped Matt shift into a more comfortable position. He closed his eyes and hoped that there would be no more nightmares—not for either of them, not for a long, long time.


End file.
